


Fighting Dirty

by Redembe



Series: The Dirty Series [4]
Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 03:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18932182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redembe/pseuds/Redembe
Summary: The boys connect on a deeper level and Blair's Guide abilities begin to develop.





	Fighting Dirty

            Perception is an amazing thing, Jim thought as he stared through the one-way glass at his elderly uncle.  At the age of thirteen, Michael had seemed like a monster.  Ten times his size and infinitely strong.  Now he just looked like a tired old man who’d been worn down by life.  His hair-line was receding and his belly hung over his belt by several inches.  He was only sixty-three but his weathered face looked ten years older.  How could he have ever been afraid of such a man, he wondered.  All he felt now was disgust and an itch to see the man bleed.

            “Oh, hey Jim, didn’t realize you were here already,” Rafe entered the observation room with a file folder.  “Look, before you go in, there’s something you should see.”  He held out the folder to Jim.

            Jim paused before taking it, seeing the serious look on Rafe’s face.  Suddenly he felt tired, tired down to his bones.  There was way too much shit going down tonight and he just wasn’t sure how much more he could take.  Despite the fact that Blair liked to call him Superman, he didn’t have super powers and he wasn’t invincible.  At some point, something would have to give.  There was a small table in the room and Jim sat down with the folder while Rafe stood over him.

            He’d expected to find more kiddie porn pictures or perhaps preliminary interview notes.  What he saw were photos of what was most likely Michael Ellison’s home.  More specifically what looked like an office.  The walls were lined with the same sorts of surveillance photos that Blair had in his lock box.  Jesus, how many fucking people were spying on him?!  He flicked through the evidence photos.  There were pictures of him going as far back as his first months after returning from Peru.  Pictures of him with his ex-wife, pictures of him at department soft-ball games and pictures of him just walking down the street.  There were even several of him and Blair in various locations.  The sick fuck had been watching him for most of his adult life. 

            “Seems he was a bit obsessed,” Rafe said.

            “Did you find any evidence that he was making or distributing child pornography?”

            “Well, we could only document what was in plain view but Brown’s working on the warrant right now.  There was a desktop and a laptop computer in the home that we hope to examine.  We didn’t see anything left out in plain sight.” 

            Jim wasn’t surprised.  Back when he was a kid, he had always thought his uncle was pretty smart.  He remembered the man had worked as a corporate attorney.  He probably knew how to keep his tracks covered pretty well.  Which was why he was so surprised that the man had been careless enough to leave such an obvious trail.  He suspected the purpose of that was to get him in that interview room.  To finally come face to face with his obsession.  Now was as good a time as any to give the motherfucker what he wanted.

            “You run this by Simon?”  He asked.  He had to reign himself in enough to make sure he wasn’t compromising the investigation.

            “He said it was okay as long as one of us is in the room while you talk to him.  Said it was a delicate situation,” Rafe said.

            “Let’s do it then.”  Jim got up and proceeded Rafe out of the room.

            Michael Ellison looked up as Jim opened the door to the interrogation room.  When their eyes met, the old man grinned at him. 

            “You wanted to talk to me,” Jim said, sitting down across from him.  He felt Rafe hovering behind him.

            “It’s been so long, Jimmy.  You’re all grown up!”  He leaned forward as if he wanted to reach out and touch.

             Jim kept his body well away from the edge of the table, his gaze cold and unflinching. 

            “Spare the family reunion bullshit, Ellison.  Detective Rafe said you have information pertaining to a current investigation.  We’d like to know what that is.”

            “Oh, yes, I have information.  You’re looking for a friend of mine.  Someone who produces material for people like me, people who love children.  But why can’t we catch up first, Jimmy?  We parted on such horrible terms, what with your father coming between us and all.”

            “There was no ‘ _us_ ’, you sick fuck.  At the moment we’ve got you on stalking at the very least.  And we’re working on warrants for your house.  I’m sure we’ll find plenty more to charge you with.  And if you don’t start talking, I’m gonna book you into county and let you spend some time with some men that have less restraint than I do.”

            “I’ve seen your partner you know.  I have some pictures of him.  He’s a very attractive young man.  What was his name again?  Oh yes, Blair.  Very androgynous.  Are you fucking him I wonder?  You seem so close.”

            “Jim!”  Rafe shouted as he leapt forward to stop the other detective’s lunge across the table.  “Jim, stop!” 

            The older Ellison was standing up now, in a corner of the small room, watching with predatory eyes as Rafe attempted to wrestle the still-struggling Sentinel out of the room.

            “We’ll be seeing each other again, Detective Jimmy,” Michael called as the door slammed shut behind the two detectives.

            “What the hell is going on here?”  Brown asked as he watched Rafe drag Jim out of the interrogation room.  His younger partner had Jim around the shoulders like he was afraid to let go and Jim was as pumped up as he’d ever seen him.

            “It’s Jim’s uncle, man.  He’s one sick puppy.  I think he was goading Ellison into attacking him,” Rafe said as Jim shook him off.

            Jim turned to go back into the interrogation room but both men stood in front of him.

            “That’s a no-go, Ellison,” Brown said, placing a retraining hand on Jim’s chest.

            “Just give me sixty seconds,” Jim breathed, not even looking at them, his laser-eyed gaze still focused on the doorway.

            “Man, if we give you sixty seconds with him he’ll be dead and our case will be fucked.  You gotta get it together, Jim.  He was baiting you.  Maybe you ought to just go home.  I don’t think this is such a good idea.”  Brown turned to Rafe for confirmation and the younger partner nodded.

            “I think he’s right, Jim.  I don’t know all the details here but I can guess.  We’re walking on thin ice as it is having you in there with him at all,” Rafe said.

            “Fine, but if he won’t talk we’re probably not gonna get the information we need.  You know how good these guys are at covering their tracks.  The only reason we have him is he led us straight to him for some reason.  I’d like to know what that reason is.”

            “Maybe a night in lockup will loosen his tongue,” Rafe suggested.

            “Maybe,” Jim conceded.  “Check with the captain first and make sure you dot all the i’s and cross all the t’s.  I don’t want this son of a bitch wiggling out of this on a technicality.”

            “Sure, Jim, no problem.  Just go home and cool off, okay.”  Brown gave him friendly pat on the chest, his eyes full of worry.

 

 

 

            Jim didn’t want to go home.  The anger inside him simmered just below the surface.  Too much fucked up shit had happened tonight.  His emotions were all over the place, and right now he just wanted to hit someone.  For the first time since his young adulthood he wanted to start a fight, just beat the shit out of someone so he could find a place for all of this violence inside him that wouldn’t lose him his job or his Guide. 

            Blair.  God, Blair why did you have to pick now?  But he knew why.  He could still feel the bond.  Blair’s worry, sadness and regret drifted in and out of his consciousness like a wave, and over it all was the overwhelming feeling of love and connection.  Even with everything he’d learned, even knowing the depth of his lover’s betrayal he couldn’t deny his own feelings.  The bond apparently prevented him from rejecting his Guide or harming him directly, but it sure didn’t make his anger go away. 

            As he drove aimlessly around the city, he thought about where they might go from here.  There were way too many balls in the air right now.  Blair was probably right about not rocking the whole NSA boat at the moment.  They needed to wrap this case so he could get his shit together with this whole Michael situation and _then_ maybe they could address it.

            The loft was quiet when he finally walked in the door at 2:27am.  His senses automatically reached out to locate his Guide.  Blair was asleep in his old room.  Well, at least it saved him from _asking_ Blair to sleep downstairs.  A small inner voice was niggling at him that he would miss his lover in his bed, but he sternly told it to shut the fuck up and went upstairs.  Maybe he would wake up tomorrow and all of this will have been a horrible dream.

            Morning, of course, revealed no such thing.  The sun rose, as much as it ever does in Cascade where it seemed to perpetually fight gloomy grey clouds, and Sentinel and Guide awoke to find themselves still connected by their bond, but apart in every other way.

            “I’m going to make some coffee, if you want some,” Blair whispered, knowing Jim would hear.  The routine of morning seemed as good a way as any to break the ice.

            Jim appeared downstairs as Blair was pouring and doctoring the coffee.  Their eyes met but neither spoke.  Jim took his cup to the table and sat quietly drinking.

            “I lost it with Michael last night.”

            “I’m not surprised.  Is he still alive?”  Blair asked.

            “Rafe was there.  He took care of me.”

            Blair winced.  He knew the choice of words was calculated to sing.

            “He’s one sick son of a bitch.  Seems to think we had some sort of _relationship_ or something.  Makes my skin crawl.”

            “I’m sure it does.  Did he give you anything?”

            “No.  I can’t work out what he wants from me; what kind of game he’s playing.”

            “I can help, you know.”

            Jim grunted, reluctantly acknowledging the truth of the statement.  Leaving Blair at home last night had been part calculated meanness and part self-preservation.  But he knew that if they wanted to get this case put to bed and try to move on with whatever was left of their relationship, he would probably need his partner’s help.

            “Jim,” Blair said, taking a seat opposite his erstwhile lover, “tell me what I can do… how I can make this right between us.  If we want to be a team.  If _you_ want us to be a team, then we have to get past this.  We may not know how we’re going to deal with the consequences of my horrendous life-choices but we can at least resolve things between us.”

            “Christ, Blair.  I don’t know if I have the energy for this right now.  Hell, I don’t even know if I’m angrier at you for what you did or at myself for completely _missing_ it!  I mean, all this time… all this time and I never even suspected!”

            “It’s not your fault, Jim.  I spent literally _years_ learning ways to get around your senses.  I worked with the Agency to develop the perfect plan that would allow me to meet you, gain your trust and work with you without you knowing what I was really up to.  The reason so much of my story is true isn’t an accident.  I _knew_ I wouldn’t be able to lie to you so I didn’t.  But it was a double-edged sword, man.  Because I was living a mostly true life, I had a hard time compartmentalizing.  I mean, after only a few months living here I knew there would be no way in hell I’d be able to remain even slightly objective about the whole thing.  I probably should have given it up way back then.  Just disaster heaped on destruction, you know.”

            “Disaster heaped on destruction, huh?”  Jim couldn’t look at him, he stared at his coffee instead and wondered how long he would feel like this; empty and angry.

            “No, Jim, no.  I know where you’re going with this and you have to stop right there.”  Scraping up what was left of his courage, Blair got up and went around the table, going to his knees beside his Sentinel and taking hold of one of Jim’s hands.  The bigger man stiffened all over but didn’t pull away.  He didn’t return Blair’s gesture for sure, but he didn’t pull away.  “I don’t see _us_ as a disaster.  Remember when I took you for the first time?  Remember when you said that I _fixed_ you?  Well, I could say the same thing about you.  Except you didn’t have to fuck me to fix me, Jim.  Just _being_ with you fixed me.  Living with you and working with you and learning about you and _loving you_ , Jim.  Jim, look at me, _please_.”

            Jim looked, and there were tears in Blair’s eyes and they were running down his cheeks steadily and Blair was making no move to wipe them away.  He looked at his Guide, on his knees begging his forgiveness and his heart broke again.  He could feel the truth of Blair’s words through their bond.  He knew that he would carry the hurt of what Blair had done around with him for a long time, but he just couldn’t bear to put distance between them. 

            Pulling his hand from Blair’s grip, Jim took Blair’s head in his hands, feeling he soft curls wind around his fingers, his wrists.  His grip was rough, and Blair let himself hang there, body almost completely limp, submitting to whatever Jim decided to do.  The Guide was offering his body as penance, and the Sentinel was more than happy to take it.

            Jim felt the passage of each second as acutely as if there were a bomb strapped to his chest, its timer ticking down.  He watched Blair’s eyes soften in response to his steely-eyed stare.  He waited for the Guide to blink.  When he did, Jim captured his lover’s mouth like he would have taken an enemy; using all the shock and awe in his considerable arsenal. 

            This kiss was not born of love, it was born of ownership and retribution.  Jim poured all of his remaining anger, hurt and betrayal down their link into that kiss and Blair soaked it up, crying and moaning as if in pain.  When it was done and Jim finally pulled away, releasing Blair’s head from his grip, the Guide slumped on the floor, listing slightly to his left as if he might fall.  Jim stuck out his leg just in case and Blair’s torso came to rest against his calf.  Blair was breathing hard and he looked a mess; snot and tears and sweat were running down his face yet he didn’t seem aware of it.

            Jim felt like he was in the eye of a hurricane, knowing they’d weathered only part of the storm, yet knowing they weren’t through yet. 

            “When this is done, no more secrets.  No more obfuscations.  If we’re going to make this work.  If we’re going to take on the fucking NSA for Christ’s sake, I have to be able to trust you.  I have to know you’re on _my_ side.”  Jim’s voice was rough, demanding, giving no quarter and expecting complete compliance.

            “Yes, I swear, Jim.  I could never be on anyone’s side but yours.  Never again.  Not anymore.  I want you to do what you have to do to make this right between us.  Whatever you want.  I’m yours.  I would give my life for you if you needed it.”  The words came from somewhere inside of him, some deep, dark part of him that was base and primitive.  He let the feeling behind them flow through their link and shivered at the predatory smile that answered him.

            “I don’t want your life, lover, just your soul,” Jim answered, his voice a growl that made Blair think of large, jungle cats.

            Blair moaned low in his throat and swayed a bit. 

            Peripherally, Jim was aware that it was morning.  He knew he had responsibilities at work, a case, Simon, Rafe and Brown probably dealing with all the paperwork from arresting his uncle and all the memories stirred up by that whole debacle.  At some point today they would have to face all of that.  But right now, nothing was more important than cleansing themselves of the taint that Blair’s betrayal has spread over their relationship.  He’d only felt it once before but he was already becoming familiar with the feeling of his Sentinel instinct rising inside of him.  Knew that it was useless to fight it.  Felt it humming down the link he shared with his partner.

            Blair moaned again and sniffed noisily.  Jim wrinkled his nose like a cat that had caught a whiff of something bad.   Grabbing some napkins from the holder on the table, he thrust them in Blair’s direction, “Wipe your face.”

            Blair heard Jim’s curse, pragmatic order as if he’d said, ‘take off your clothes and bend over the table’.  Suddenly his dick was hard.  Something inside of him was answering something inside of Jim.  He was at once terrified and painfully excited.  What would happen now?  What had he agreed to?  He’d been flying blind almost from the beginning.  Despite his confident boasting of earlier, he’d never been one hundred percent certain of anything when it came to dealing with Jim the Sentinel.  And now this new thing.  This _bond_ for lack of a better term had sprung up between them.  It was doing things to him that had no way of understanding.  For years Jim had been awkward, uncomfortable and sometimes even hostile towards anything having to do with being a Sentinel, and Blair had always seemed to embrace his role as Guide.  But now… now everything had been turned around.  Blair realized too late that he might have bitten off more than he could chew.  Too late.  Much _much_ too late if last night was any indication.

            Jim was shaking the napkins in his face insistently and frowning.  He watched his hand reach out to take them, felt the rough fibers wipe away the gunk on his face.  When he was done, Jim took his wrist in one hand and the napkins in the other, tossing them onto the table.

            “Stand up,” Jim ordered, tugging on the wrist he held. 

            And Blair, full of fear and wonder, did.  Words were running around in his head but he found it impossible to speak.  He felt drunk, drugged.  Unable to do anything but what Jim wanted him to do, what Jim _needed_ him to do.  He found himself on his feet without remembering that he’d moved.

            The Sentinel stood in front of his Guide.  He felt the subtle shift of the air currents moved by stirring of the air conditioner.  He smelled the scent of the Guide standing in front of him, heard the other man’s racing heartbeat, the center of his universe.  His eyes catalogued every detail of his lover, the flushed face, puffy eyes, and hair still wild from sleep.  He wanted to taste… wanted…

            “Take off your clothes.”

            “We’re gonna do this here?”  It was hard to force the words, but something about stripping in the middle of his kitchen at, he glanced at the clock, 7:33 in the morning while their coffee was still cooling on the table felt a little strange.

            “I don’t want this in our bed,” Jim answered, prowling (there was really no other word for it) closer.  “The next time I take you in our bed I want there to be nothing between us but the love we have for each other.  This… whatever this is… doesn’t belong there.”

            “Right.  Okay.”  Blair said and started taking off his clothes.

            When he was naked, he stood in front of his Sentinel and tried not to show how nervous he was.  Jim was standing so close that even he could feel the man’s body heat.  And his lover was still dressed, wearing an old pair of sweats and a Cascade PD t-shirt.  And he was looking Blair up and down like he was the last good thing on Earth.  Maybe for Jim, I am, Blair thought and swallowed loudly.

            “I can feel everything about you,” Jim said softly, “it’s like knowing you from the inside out.  No more hiding, Guide.  No more lies.”

            Reaching out with his right hand he took Blair by the back of the neck in a proprietary grip, pulling the other man towards him and taking his mouth again.  He kissed the Guide until he felt Blair swaying. 

            “On your knees,” Jim said, pulling away and releasing Blair’s head. 

            Like a puppet with its strings cut, Blair sank to the floor and waited, watching as Jim slid a hand inside his sweats, pulling the fabric out over his erection and down, feeing his cock.  He felt his mouth water in anticipation.

            “You know what I want,” the Sentinel growled.

            Oh yes, he knew what Jim wanted.  He was getting the message like an all-points bulletin in his brain.  He was in for one hell of a ride.

            He reached for Jim’s cock, mouth opening but Jim stopped him with a look. 

            “No, just your mouth.  Put your hands behind your back.  You touch me when _I_ say.”

            Blair groaned loudly, feeling his dick jump.  He’d never really gotten into the whole power exchange thing before but this was turning him on like crazy.  Maybe he could get Jim to do this when he _wasn’t_ possessed by the spirit of his Sentinel (or whatever the hell this was).

            He adjusted his course and took Jim’s cock in his mouth, keeping his eyes on his lover’s face, gazing up at him raptly.  Jim growled… _growled_ … low in his throat and gathered Blair’s hair in his right hand, letting his left hanging at his side casually, like he wasn’t standing with his dick hanging out of his pants getting blown in the middle of his kitchen.  Blair tried to sink down onto his lover’s erection but Jim’s grip on his hair held him still.  Oh shit, Blair thought, and nearly came as Jim began to fuck his mouth, using his hair as a handle, controlling his speed and the timing of his breathing. 

            Blair was enthralled, hypnotized by the pure power and control that moved through their link.  Nothing existed for him except the dick he was servicing and his lover’s hand on him.  Jim’s thrusts were speeding up, his cock hardening even more, Blair felt Jim’s approaching orgasm and tightened his lips even further, his jaw aching, wanting to taste his lover.  When Jim finally came, he jammed his dick so far down Blair’s throat that the younger man was disappointed that he couldn’t really taste Jim’s finish.  He had to swallow quickly to avoid choking.  Amazingly, Jim stayed mostly hard.  Blair could tell they weren’t finished yet.  Whatever demons his lover was exercising with this little display hadn’t been completely banished by his oral attentions.

            “Up,” Jim ordered and before Blair could move he was pulling the other man to his feet by the grip he still had on Blair’s hair.  His eyes watered a bit at the sting but the pain only added to his pleasure.  He only had time to glimpse Jim’s left hand moving on his cock, keeping himself erect for the next round, before he was summarily turned and pushed down over the kitchen table, his nose nearly missing one of the coffee mugs.  He could smell the rich smell of the drink and the wood smell of the table, its cool surface puckering his nipples.

            Blair had never wanted to get fucked more in his life.  He knew this was meant to be some sort of penance, some sort of price he had to pay in order to get back in his Sentinel’s good graces, but as an incentive to never again make such spectacularly bad choices, he wasn’t sure it was working.  Cause he felt like he might explode at any moment.  Felt like he was owned and loved and cherished even though Jim seemed intent of using him as a living sex toy.

            “Hold on to the table, Blair,” Jim was bent over him, breathing the words into his ear.  He could feel Jim still working himself, every third stroke or so the other man’s hand would brush his ass or his dick would leave a wet kiss on his skin.  His hands moved of their own accord to hold the opposite edge of the sturdy table.  Belatedly, his thinking mind caught up to what was happening here.  _Holy shit, Jim’s about to fuck me dry over the kitchen table_.  He hoped the other man had worked up a good amount of pre-cum cause even as hot as he was, a dry fuck was going to leave him hurting afterwards.

            He heard Jim spit a few times into his hand, listened to the meaty slap of skin on skin, and tried to relax as much as possible.

            He felt Jim’s cock at his hole and his fingers tightened, eyes closing in anticipation.  “When this is done, it’ll be over,” Jim said, “the scales will be balanced between us.”  He felt Jim push against him and he bore down.  They both hissed when Jim’s cock pierced him.  “I love you, Blair.”

            Blair wondered at his masochistic tendencies when Jim’s first thrust didn’t soften his erection because it fucking _hurt_.  No lube and no prep.  Even as experienced as he was it was difficult for his muscles to adjust.  Spit and pre-cum made piss-poor lubricants and what little Jim had managed to wipe onto his cock didn’t seem like it was doing much good.  After a couple of minutes though, the piercing pain turned to a dull ache that served to feed his desire rather than distract from it.  Jim wasn’t letting him participate much even though he tried some half-hearted wiggling. 

            “Be… still…” Jim ordered and tightened his grip on Blair’s hair with one hand and his hip with the other.  He continued to thrust for a while, a steady, rough pounding that had them both breathing heavily.  “Open to me, Guide.”  Jim’s strained voice came to him like a touch, he felt it in his mind.  He tried to figure out what his lover meant.  He wasn’t sure he could control the link between them.  Jim seemed much more able to do that than he did.

            “Open to me!”  Jim howled, grunting and straining.

            Not knowing what else to do, Blair let his entire body relax, relying on his Sentinel to hold him up, pin him down, take him.  He tried to clear his mind like he did during meditation and found it easier than it should have been given the situation.  Then he felt it, the connection between them, clearer even than the previous night (had it only been twelve hours?).  He gasped at the emotions pouring down the link.  All of Jim’s anger, fear, and sense of betrayal flowed out of him and into Blair where something deep inside of him captured it, contained it, holding it inside himself but still apart from him. 

            Distantly, he felt Jim thrusting harder inside of him, straining toward his completion like he was desperate for it, like it was more pain than pleasure.  Then finally, finally he felt the other man cum inside of him.  It seemed to go on forever.  And when it was over, Blair was still hard, still needing it, now _desperate_ for release.  He felt Jim slumped over his back, cock softening inside of him and he groaned, trying to flex around the invader, trying to get one more thrust that might push him over the edge.  But Jim hadn’t said he could release the table yet.  His hands seemed to be locked in place by no more than Jim’s will.

            “Jim,” he cried, “Jim, _please_.” 

            And Jim stirred himself, pulled gently from Blair’s body and helped him slide down into the floor, which was where his limp body was headed anyway.  The larger man arranged him on his back and then knelt over him, mouth going immediately to his erection.  Blair’s mouth opened in a silent scream as Jim worked his cock with a will, pulling Blair’s climax from him like he was on a mission.  But it was more than just an orgasm, as Blair felt himself start to cum, all of the emotion that Jim had left inside of him began to dissipate.  By the time the last of his seed had dribbled out the end of his dick and into Jim’s mouth, there was nothing left of all that hurt.  It was just gone.  Poof.  Like magic.

            “Magic,” Blair whispered to the ceiling, feeling like he’d been profoundly transformed, feeling like the most powerful human being on the planet, feeling like a million bucks.

            Jim crawled up to lay on top of him, apparently for once not concerned about his larger size.  And Blair was just fine with that.  He wiggled around a bit to get them in a more comfortable position and felt a distinct twinge in his nether regions.  Hmmm… perhaps some of him wasn’t feeling like a million bucks.  Tentatively, he tried a small squeeze of his internal muscles.  Yup, he was definitely gonna be feeling this for a while. 

            “Are you alright?” 

            Blair pulled his gaze from the ceiling and met his lover’s worried gaze.

            “Are you back with me, big guy?”  Blair asked.

            “I think so,” Jim said. 

            “That was fucking _amazing_.”  Blair let his head fall back to the floor with a thunk, he just didn’t have the strength left to hold it up.

            “It was necessary,” Jim replied solemnly.

            Blair hummed his agreement.

            “What time is it?”  Jim asked.

            “So much for the afterglow,” Blair grumbled. 

            He felt Jim shift and some of his weight lifted as the older man looked at the clock. 

            “Shit!”  Jim, exclaimed, pulling himself to his feet.  “It’s almost eleven, Blair.  How come no one called?!  Shit, Simon’s gonna have a stroke.”  He looked around as if he didn’t quite know what to do next. 

            Blair stretched lazily and pillowed his head on his hands, perfectly content to gaze adoringly up at his Sentinel, whose dick was still hanging out of his sweats.

            “Hey, you didn’t even take your clothes off!”  Blair observed.  “That’s hot.”

            “Hey, afterglow boy, get your ass off the floor.  We’ve got work to do.”  And he reached down for Blair’s hand, hauling him to his feet.

            “Guess the honeymoon’s over,” he grumbled, trailing after Jim as they made their way to the bathroom.  A shower was a definite must before they could even think about making an appearance at the station.

            As they passed the answering machine, Blair noticed the light blinking.  “Um, Jim, did you check the machine yesterday?”

            Jim turned to look at the machine with its blinking light.  “There were no messages last night.”  He watched as Blair pushed the button.

            The robotic voice of the machine announced, “Message one, received at 9:23am.  ‘Hey, Jim, it’s Rafe, where are you, man?  We were expecting you first thing to help us out with Ellison.  Give me a holler when you get this.’”  Then a beep to signal the end of the message.

            There were four more messages.  One more from Rafe and two from Simon.  The last one sounded angry.  It was at ten o’ clock.

            “Oops?”  Blair’s smile and cocky grin made his heart beat faster but Jim made his face arrange itself into a scowl.

            “Simon’s gonna kill us.”

            “He can’t kill us, Jim, we’re his best team!”  Blair patted his stomach affectionately as he walked past Jim into the bathroom.

           

 

 

            They stopped for breakfast and coffee on the way to the station, figuring that fifteen more minutes wouldn’t make that much difference considering how late they were.

            “I didn’t hear the phone this morning,” Jim said.

            “Obviously,” Blair responded.

            “Why didn’t I hear the phone this morning, Blair?”  Jim asked.

            And Blair knew it was a total cliché, but he felt like he’d just been struck by a bolt of lightning.  It wasn’t as if Jim hadn’t asked him a billion times to explain his Sentinel abilities or to help him hone this or that, but for the first time he realized that _this_ was why he was here.  He was a _Guide_ … with a capital ‘G’.  It was his job to make sense of all the mystical shit that was connected to their roles.  The title of Shaman wasn’t just a cool moniker, it was a responsibility. 

            “It’s hit you, hasn’t it?”  Jim asked, slipping his cup into a cup holder and reaching out to take Blair’s hand.

            “Uh,” Blair said articulately.

            Jim chuckled. 

            “Stop laughing,” Blair mumbled, embarrassed.  “It’s not funny.”

            “It _is_ funny,” Jim said, giving his lover’s hand a squeeze, “all this time you’ve been _playing_ at being a Guide.  You had _zero_ fucking clue this entire time!  And here I was fighting tooth and nail against something as immutable as the tides.  And now you’re here with me.  Now we’re on the same page for fucking _once_.  So get with the program, huh?  I need my Guide firing on all cylinders.  We’ve got a lot of tests we need to do.”

            “ _Tests?_ ”  Blair squeaked.

            “Yeah, tests, oh Shaman of the Great City.  If we’re gonna use this bond then we need to know how it works, how deep it goes, what it can do.”  Jim seemed unreasonably energized for a man who’d had only four hours of sleep. 

            “I’ve created a monster,” Blair said, and threw back the rest of his coffee as Jim pulled into the PD garage.  “Tests are gonna have to wait, big guy.  Right now we have to catch some predators.”

            As they sat listening to the engine ticking, Jim sighed.  “Yeah, right.  Let’s do this.”

            In the elevator, Blair said, “You didn’t hear the phone because you were listening to the bond.”

            “Hmmm.”

            “Best I can figure is that when we connect in that way, when we go that deep, it sends us into a sort of meditative trance.  I wasn’t able to connect to you fully until I let myself sink into a meditative state.”

            Jim had a lot of questions about that theory, but the elevator doors were opening on their floor and Sentinel/Guide mysticism was not a topic for general consumption.

            Simon must have been lying in wait for them because he was standing in the middle of the bullpen with his fists on his hips and glaring like an angry bull when they walked in.

            “Ellison!  Sandburg!  Nice of you to join us!  On a Tuesday at,” he paused to look pointedly at his watch, “12:15.”

            “Simon, we are _so_ sorry, man.  I’m sure you heard about what went down last night with Jim’s uncle.  He didn’t get in until really late and we must have forgotten to set the alarm.”

            Jim’s shrewd gaze went to his partner while his brain processed the smooth way he’d delivered that bit of pleasant fiction.  Blair’s talent for obfuscation had taken on a whole new light.  At least he was now confident the younger man would now be using his powers only for good.

            “My office.  Now.”  Simon’s ire was apparently unassuaged by Blair’s explanation.

             Simon slammed the door with way more force than was strictly necessary, at least in Jim’s opinion.  He didn’t sit and he didn’t invite them to sit either.  He stood imposingly in front of his desk and glared at them.

            “Jim, I don’t know what sort of happy horseshit this thing with your uncle has stirred up, but you better stow it… _now_.  Because if you don’t, you’re off this case.  Not _only_ will you be off this case, but you will be looking at a suspension and possibly an IA investigation.”

            Blair opened his mouth to speak, and Jim could have told him that was a bad idea, but Simon interrupted him.

            “I don’t want to hear from you, Sandburg.  No, I take that back.  I want you to answer _one_ question for me.  Where the hell were you last night?  Why weren’t you here keeping a lid on your partner?  Rafe had to drag his ass out of the box after he tried to attack a suspect.”

            Sentinel and Guide exchanged a look full of non-verbal communication.

            “I told Sandburg to stay home.  I thought I could handle it, sir,” Jim’s posture had automatically assumed the air of a man at attention and his formal tone brooked no argument.

            Simon clenched his jaw around his unlit cigar.  “From now on, until this case is finished, I want you here, with your partner, where you should be, Sandburg.  I will not allow this investigation to go to shit because Ellison here can’t hold his temper.”

            “Yes, sir,” both men answered at once.

            “One more thing,” Simon added, “you ever ignore my calls again and I will _personally_ put a letter in your file, Detective.”

            “Yes, sir,” Jim said, jaw jumping.

            “Now get out of my sight, you’re giving me a headache.”

            When they emerged into the bullpen, there was an air of sudden activity as if a held breath had been released.  Jim rolled his eyes, and when he caught Brown sniggering behind his hand he glared at the other detective until he cleared his throat and went back to whatever it was he was doing on the computer.

            “Ellison, Sandburg,” Rafe’s voice was preceded by the man himself, striding towards them with an envelope in his hand.  “Warrant for Ellison’s place.  Brown and I are going to see what there is to see.  Simon says you guys have to stay put, but forensics came back with more information from the Internet Café.  It should be on your desk.”

            “Great,” Jim said.  Rafe turned to walk past him and collect his partner but Jim stopped him with a hand on his arm.  “Thanks for last night, man.  You saved my ass.”

            “No problem,” Rafe said.  “If I were you I’d have done the same thing.  It was harder than you know to keep you from landing a few.”

            Jim nodded and Rafe clapped him on the shoulder as he passed. 

            Sentinel and Guide spent a long afternoon trying to decipher the report on the data collected from the Internet Café.  There wasn’t that much that was actually useful as it turned out.  It was only the one transaction that had been made by Jim’s uncle.  Which confirmed Jim’s suspicions that the man had done it deliberately in order to get himself on Jim’s radar.  This whole thing stank.  He wanted this to be _over_.  He wanted to put Michael Ellison _under_ the jail where he belonged so he could stop _thinking_ about all this shit.

            “Why would he want to see me after all this time?”  Jim asked himself.

            “Maybe he wants to apologize?”  Blair asked tentatively.  “I mean, not that it would help.  Not that you’d actually _forgive_ him or anything, but he is getting old.  Maybe he wants to try and, like, make restitution before he dies?”

            “I don’t think that’s it, Chief,” Jim said.  “He was acting like we were long-lost _lovers_ or something last night.  As crazy as this sounds, I’d like to try and question him again.”

            “I don’t think Simon’s gonna be okay with that, man,” Blair said, “even if I _am_ in the room.  He’s not gonna risk that a second time.”

            “Well, Michael said he’d only talk to me.  That he had information on a friend of his, he said.  What he said led me to believe it may be the person who’s distributing all this material.  Maybe even producing it.  I can’t pass up the opportunity to take someone like that off the street.”

            “There is _no_ way that Simon’s gonna let you in that box with him again.  You heard him, he was _pissed_ man!”

            Jim knew his Guide was right.  And he wasn’t so sure himself that he could face off with Michael again without losing it.  He may have banished some of his rage last night but there was still plenty more where that came from.

            “Then we have to find some other way,” he said, determined to get to the bottom of this case.

            “I think I have an idea,” Blair said.

            “That’s why I keep you around, Chief,” Jim smiled, giving his shoulder a friendly punch.

            Jim was frankly worried that Simon might have a stroke or a heart attack or something, the way he was clenching his jaw around his cigar.  He was amazed his Captain was able to speak through a jaw clenched that tight.

            “Are you _insane_ , Sandburg?”  Simon asked, his voice was quiet but his expression heralded thunder on the horizon.  “You _must_ be insane if you think I’m going to sign off on this… this… _idea_ you have.”  He said the word ‘idea’ like he might have said pimp or pedophile. 

            “Well, Simon, it’s a way out of our current predicament.  Michael says he has information related to this case which might be vital to catching some really bad dudes, but he’ll only talk to Jim.  You won’t _allow_ Jim to question him because you’re worried Michael will end up as a red smear on the carpet.  _Jim’s_ worried he won’t be able to stop himself from wiping the floor with this bastard and I _know_ I’m not strong enough to stop him if he goes for it.  This is really a win-win for everyone.”

            “What if something happens?  What if Uncle Mike decides he’d like to take a couple of shots at Jim while he’s cuffed to the goddamn table?!”  Simon’s voice rose into the range of Very Pissed at the end.

            “So we handcuff Michael to the table too,” Blair suggested, very reasonably, he thought, “but based on what Jim told me about what happened last night I doubt that will happen.”

            “Yeah, seems more like he wants to reminisce on old times,” Jim said.

            “This is the _best_ you could come up with?!”  Simon asked incredulously.  “I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”

            “Gee, thanks Simon,” Jim glared.

            “It’s the best way to give Michael what he wants _without_ jeopardizing the investigation,” Blair said with a ‘what do you want from my life’ shrug.

            Jim would have laid odds that Simon was about to say no.  Hell, he’d spent forty-five minutes trying to talk Blair out of coming in here with this crazy bullshit plan of his.  But the longer he watched Simon think, the longer he watched the man worry that stinky cigar in his mouth, the less sure he was.

            “Alright, we’ll give it a shot,” Simon said, and Blair broke into his ‘I knew you’d come around to my way of thinking’ smile, “ _but_ ,” Simon added, “this is your _only_ shot, Jim.  You get him to talk, or we charge him with what we’ve got and hope the search turns up something.”

            “I’ll do my best, Captain,” Jim said.

            “I’m sure you will,” Simon finished.

            Jim heard the note of dismissal in Simon’s voice and hauled Blair bodily from his chair before he could add some sort of smartass remark.

            “Always want the last word, don’t you, Chief,” Jim grumbled into his ear as he closed Simon’s office door behind them.

            “Yup,” Blair said cheekily. 

           

 

 

            “Oh my, isn’t this cozy?” 

            Joel Taggart shoved Michael Ellison down into his chair and attached his handcuffs to the metal ring on the table.  Across from him, Jim sat similarly confined with Blair behind him, a steadying hand on his shoulder.  Feeling Jim tense at the old man’s goading words, he gripped his lover’s shoulder in silent support and felt his Sentinel relax fractionally.

            “We’re gonna try this again.  And this time I want some cooperation.  Stop wasting our time,” Jim said, steely eyes locked into his uncle.

            “I see you’ve brought your young man with you this time.  I’ve been watching you, you know.  He _is_ beautiful.  I must admit, when I discovered that you had moved a _man_ into your place I was surprised.  Do you know I was Jimmy’s first?”

            A wave of disgust hit Blair as the old man shifted his gaze away from Jim.  As their eyes locked, the Guide knew instantly that this entire thing had never been about Jim.  At least not directly.  The short hairs at the back of his neck prickled.  He could feel the waves of lust and jealously coming off of Jim’s uncle, and knew immediately what to do to end this.

            He felt Jim shift and tense again.  Knew his Sentinel was getting ready to say something.  Before Jim could speak, he shifted his hand slightly, moving it so it gripped the back of Jim’s neck possessively.  A much more intimate touch than they usually engaged in at work.

            “You think you had some sort of hold on him, don’t you?”  Blair asked. 

            Jim turned his head, eyes widening at the tone of his lover’s voice.  It raised goosebumps on his arms.

            “You never forget your first, young man.  I’ll always be the one that Jimmy remembers.”  The smug tone grated on Blair’s nerved.  It called to something elemental inside of him.  Something that knew that Jim was _his_ and his alone.

            “Until your name came up in this investigation, he hadn’t thought of you at all.  In fact, he spent his entire life _not_ thinking about you and all of the disgusting things you did to him.”  Blair raised his other hand and placed both on Jim’s shoulders.  Slowly, he ran both hands down Jim’s chest, feeling his heart beating hard inside his body, feeling his Sentinel press back against his stomach.  “You think you own some part of him?  You’re a fool, a sad old man who preys on children that are too weak to fight back.”

            Michael’s face clouded with anger, his cold blue eyes following Blair’s hands on Jim’s body.

            “Jim’s not a scared little boy anymore, Michael.  Nothing about him ever belonged to you.  You _took_ something from him, yes, but that doesn’t mean you own it.  And as far as remembering you,” Blair let out a snort of derisive laughter, “the only thing Jim will remember about you will be how he put you away.”

            “No!”  Michael yelled, pulling reflexively against the handcuffs holding him.  Joel stepped forward but a glance from Blair had him stepping back again.  “Who are you?!  You’re nothing but a whore!  You wormed your way into Jimmy’s life, always taking from him.  You seduced him to your bed.  _I’m_ the only one who truly loves him!”

            Blair’s soft laughter carried an air of contempt that froze the air in the room.

            “You didn’t love him.  You never loved him.  You only wanted to possess him.”  Blair moved around the table to stand close to Michael, who leaned as far back as his restraint would allow, a coward cornered by true strength.  Blair bent down over him and watched the old man shrink away.  “But you can’t possess him.  Because he’s _mine._ Tell us what we want to know, old man.”  The Sentinel felt a shiver run down his spine, Blair’s voice echoed in his head like a supersonic pulse.  He glanced over at Joel to see the other man staring wide-eyed at the scene playing out before them.  “Tell us now.  You’ll never have any more hold on him.  He belongs to _me_.  He’s always belonged to me.  He was _made_ for me.  You’re nothing but a sad old man who will die, broken and bleeding in a lonely cell.  But before you go, there is one thing you can do to make amends for all of the hurt you caused.  Tell us!”

            The pungent smell of urine wrinkled Jim’s nose, but he could tell that neither Blair nor Joel had noticed yet that Michael had pissed himself in fear.  Jim guessed they were seeing the first true effects of his Guide’s abilities.  Holy shit, he thought, Simon’s gonna go around the bend.

            “I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you,” Michael sobbed, shaking and shivering and squirming to get further away from Blair and whatever force he was exerting over the old man cowering in front of him.  “It was Ingram!  Thomas Ingram!  He makes the stuff.  He’s the one who sends it out.  I swear, I just look.  I’m an old man!  Half the time I can’t even get it up anymore!  Please, get away from me!  Get him away from me!”  He was struggling now, tearing at the steel cuffs holding him.  Jim could smell blood added to the scent of urine and saw that the skin on Michael’s wrists was torn. 

            “You better not be lying to me, Michael, or I’ll be back.  And I won’t be so nice next time,” Blair said, returning to his position behind Jim.  His touch on Jim’s shoulder was a caress.  Jim almost groaned at the contact.  Whatever power his Guide had tapped into flowed through their link into his body like a hot wind.  He realized alarmingly that his dick was hard. 

            “You better hope this checks out,” he growled, no longer the least bit disturbed by seeing this monster from his childhood.  What he saw now was nothing but a pathetic, washed up old man.  A shell of a person who could no longer hurt him or hold any power over him.  “Get this piece of shit out of my face, Taggart.”

            “You got it,” Joel answered, bending to un-cuff Michael from the table. 

            Later, Blair would spend hours replaying the scene in his head, wondering what had gone wrong, what he had missed.  It happened in the split second before Joel could get the old man’s hands behind his back.  No one expected the dazed, humiliated man to lash out.  Even Jim didn’t see it coming. 

            There was a scuffle, Blair felt Jim stiffen under his hands, and somehow Joel’s service weapon appeared in Michael’s left hand.  Blair watched in slow motion as he brought the weapon up, the muzzle of the gun aimed briefly at his head before Joel lunged for the old man’s arm.  The door bursting open just as the gun discharged, the blast echoing in the small space, sound going muffled after.  He gasped and felt pain in his chest, but when he looked down he saw no blood.

            Then it was chaos.  Michael was subdued, Joel’s weapon knocked to the floor as the old man was bodily carried from the room.  Blair dropped to his knees beside his Sentinel, putting both hands on the bleeding wound, trying to apply pressure.  Simon appeared, shouting into his phone. 

            “Hurts, Chief,” Jim was gritting his teeth against the pain.  Megan knelt on the other side of him, unlocking his own cuffs and setting him free.  He slumped in his chair, breathing with difficulty.

            “I’ve got you, Jim,” Blair said as they lowered him to the floor.

            “Where are the goddamn EMTs?”  Simon bellowed.

            The worried faces of their friends hovered around the doorway as Blair tried desperately to keep Jim with him, the pool of blood from the gunshot wound spreading steadily around his partner’s prone form.  He could feel Jim’s consciousness fading. 

            “Stay with me, Jim,” he pleaded, “It’s going to be okay, babe.  We’re gonna get the ambulance here and you’ll be alright.”

            “I love you, Blair,” Jim said, struggling to do as his Guide asked, to keep his eyes open so he wouldn’t pass out. 

            “I know, babe, I love you too,” he answered.

            It felt like forever before the EMTs arrived with a stretcher, but it must have been only minutes.  Faces were a blur as Blair watched them work to stabilize his lover.  He hovered just out of the way, desperately wanting to touch his Sentinel, but knowing he’d just be in the way.  When they finally wheeled Jim out of the bullpen he was right behind them.

            “I’m riding with him to the hospital,” Blair told Simon as the Captain ran beside him.

            “I’ll meet you there,” Simon said, “he’s going to be fine, Blair.”

            Blair gave him a watery smile and prayed that Simon was right.

 

 

           

            Hospitals.  If he never saw the inside of another hospital in his entire life he’d be forever grateful.  It seemed one or both of them had spent way too much time at Cascade General in the past several years.  Hell, the nurses were starting to recognize him and it wasn’t in a good way.

            “How’s he doing?”  Simon asked.

            Blair raised dull eyes to his friend.  “Don’t know.  They took him back to surgery and I haven’t seen anyone since.” 

            “Where are your clothes?”  Simon asked, taking note of the fact that Blair was dressed in a set of hospital scrubs.

            “They had blood… Jim’s blood,” Blair stopped, wiping his hands down his chest as if he was still trying to wipe the blood away.

            Simon grimaced and sat down in the chair next to him. 

            “You don’t have to stay, Simon,” he said, “you must have a ton of paperwork to do after…”

            “You know what, Sandburg, you two are gonna owe me about a _years_ ’ worth of paperwork after this.  I might make you my permanent secretaries from now on.  Cause you damn sure manage to create about 95% of the paperwork I have to do since this whole Sentinel thing…”  Simon stopped and swallowed.  “I’m staying.”  He added with an air of finality.

            Blair looked away to watch the second hand tick its way around the clock on the wall.  The link between himself and his Sentinel had gone quiet.  He found himself missing it even though he acknowledged that he’d not been that excited about its existence at first.  Now that he could no longer feel his lover, he was left with a yawning feeling of emptiness that produced am ache in his chest.  He found himself trying to rub it away, but it didn’t help.  It was only getting worse the longer he was away from his Sentinel.  Why couldn’t he feel him? 

            “If he…” Blair whispered, afraid to say the words, “if he was… they’d tell us right?  We would know by now right?”

            “He’ll be okay, Blair,” Simon whispered back, and he felt the larger man take hold of his hand, gipping it tightly.  “He’s strong.  He’ll be just fine.”

            “Simon, I have to tell you something,” Blair started but Simon interrupted him.

            “Not now, Sandburg.  I’ve had about all I can take for one day, thank you.”

            Blair subsided into silence.  His aborted confession dying in his throat.  It was probably for the best.  The fewer people who knew about the whole NSA drama the better.  Dragging their friends into it could bring a whole host of problems for them.  Better to talk it over with Jim first anyway.  He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the link, tried to reach out to his partner and send him all of the love and strength that he could. 

            “Sandburg!” 

            The voice was followed by a jostling elbow in his side.

            “Sandburg, wake up!”

            “I’m awake,” he mumbled, eyes coming open to stare blearily at the man in front of them, wearing scrubs spotted with blood.  “Jim?!  Is he okay?  What’s going on?”

            “Hi, I’m Dr. Hamish.”  The doctor extended his hand but Blair ignored it.  

            “I don’t care what your name is, tell me what’s going on with my partner!”

            “Blair, calm down,” Simon said, squeezing the hand that Blair realized was still grasped in Simon’s.

            Simon reached out to shake Dr. Hamish’s hand.  “It’s nice to meet you doctor, do you have any news?”

            “Um, yes, are you Blair Sandburg?”  The doctor asked, addressing the younger man.

            “Yes, I’m Blair Sandburg.  What’s going on?  Is Jim okay?”

            “As you have his medical power of attorney, I’m authorized to share information with you.  I have to say your partner’s a very lucky man,” the doctor continued and Blair slumped down in his seat, relief evident.  “It was a difficult operation.  The bullet came very close to his heart.  Right now he appears to be stable.  We’ve moved him to recovery.  It will be an hour or so before he’s allowed visitors.”

            “So he’s going to be alright?”  Blair asked.

            “Well, he’s not out of the woods yet.  There’s still the possibility of infection and he had a difficult time with the anesthesia.  We nearly lost him twice.  We’ll have him moved to ICU after he’s awake, but I anticipate that he will eventually make a full recovery.”

            Blair couldn’t speak.  _We nearly lost him._   The words echoed in his head, raising a lump in his throat.  _We nearly lost him.  I nearly lost him._  

            “Thank you, doc,” Simon said, shaking the man’s hand again.  Just let us know when we can see him.

            “They’ll send a nurse out as soon as he’s awake,” the doctor said, giving them a tired wave as he left the waiting room.

           

 

           

            This time, both Blair and Simon were awakened by a nurse.  She stood in the doorway calling for ‘Sandburg’.  She’d said his name three times before he could shake off the fog and answer.

            “Me, I’m Blair Sandburg,” he said, and he felt Simon stir in the chair beside him.  He stood and met her halfway across the room.

            “Mr. Sandburg, my name is Vanessa and I’ve been keeping an eye on Detective Ellison in recovery.  If you wouldn’t mind, the doctor would like to speak with you in the conference room.”  She turned but stopped in the doorway when she realized he wasn’t following.  “Mr. Sandburg?”

            He tried to make his feet move.  He really did.  But the air in here was thin and the room was suddenly way too hot and it was tilting a bit to the left.

            “Woah there, Blair,” Simon said softly, gripping him by the arm and steadying him.  “Sit down before you fall over.”

            He collapsed into the nearest chair, and Vanessa rushed into the room and knelt in front of him.  She took his wrist in her hand and looked down at her watch.  She counted pulse and respiration.  “Put your head down, hon, between your knees,” she said, and he felt her firm grip guide his head down.  “Try to slow your breathing.  You’re hyperventilating.  Just breathe with me, hon.  In… out… in… out…”

            His spotty vision began to clear and the room righted itself. 

            “Feeling better now?  Do you want to try and sit up?”  Vanessa held him gently as he sat in the chair and tried to breathe. 

            “Jim,” he said.

            “He’s okay,” Vanessa said immediately, sensing that his panicked reaction had been provoked by worry over his friend, “it’s just, he won’t wake up.  The doctor wants to talk to you in private.  Come on, I’ll help you up.”

            Blair let himself be led by Simon and Vanessa down the hall to a small conference room.  The doctor that had operated on Jim was there.

            “Mr. Sandburg,” he greeting, “Captain Banks, please sit down.  I have a few questions for both of you.”

            They sat, Blair still feeling shell shocked and a bit unsteady.

            “It seems we’re having a bit of trouble waking your partner, Mr. Sandburg.  Has Detective Ellison ever had this kind of trouble with anesthesia before?”

            “Not that I know of,” Simon said, prodding Blair when it was apparent that the younger man wasn’t going to speak.

            “Um, no.  But since I’ve known him he hasn’t had to undergo general anesthetic.  He does have some drug sensitivities though.  How are his vitals?”  Ask a question.  Good.  Maybe he could get his brain in gear if he could just focus finding a solution to the problem.

            “That’s the thing, all of his vitals look great.  Especially considering what a close call this was.  We were concerned at first that he’d slipped into a coma but his EEG is normal.  Aside from the fact that he doesn’t appear to respond to outside stimulus at all, I’d say he was just in a very deep sleep or still sedated.  We tried giving a small dose of adrenaline but considering the complications during surgery I want to be conservative with that.  He showed no response other than an escalation of breathing and heart rate.  I was hoping you might be able to provide some additional information.”

            A zone was Blair’s first thought.  A bad one from the doctor’s description.  If Jim wasn’t responding to outside stimulus at all it would be difficult to tell which sense had triggered it. 

            “Can I see him?”  Blair asked.  “In the past, Jim has had… episodes… and I’ve always been able to bring him out of it.”

            “Episodes?”  The doctor said, a tone of skepticism in his voice.  “Do you mean like seizures or disassociation?”

            “Well, he’s never been diagnosed with a seizure disorder so I’m guessing it’s more like disassociation.  He just kind of checks out.”

            “And he still works in the field?”  The doctor turned his sharp gaze to Simon.

            “It doesn’t appear to affect his work.”  Simon knew his answer was lame, but he didn’t have the brain power or the energy to do any better.  Wasn’t Sandburg supposed to handle that shit?  Lord help them if Blair couldn’t get his shit together.  This doctor was smart.

            “Well, I don’t see how it could hurt.  We’ll have to move him to ICU in another couple of hours though even if he doesn’t wake up.  Follow me.”

            Jim lay still and pale against the white hospital sheets.  Blair swallowed loudly and approached his prone partner with trepidation.  Banks hovered behind him but stayed a good distance away.  Blair scanned his eyes over his Sentinel, noting all of the wires and the IV.  He took hold of Jim’s hand in his and shivered at how cold it was.  He rubbed the slack hand between his own and tried desperately to feel the link between them.  Slowly, he began to feel something, a quiet hum of energy, nothing like what they had been feeling for the past couple of days.  But he could feel _something_ and for the moment it made him sigh in relief. 

            “Hey buddy, it’s me,” he spoke softly, “you gonna come back to us?  I know you must be hurting, but you can’t stay asleep forever.”  He listened to Jim’s soft breathing and the hiss of the oxygen flowing into his partner’s nose through the cannula and the beep of the heart monitor.  There were no changes in Jim’s vitals in response to his voice.  He bent down and put his head on the pillow next to his Sentinel’s face, so that his breath and scent would be near.  “Please, lover,” he whispered Sentinel-soft into Jim’s ear, “please, please come back to me.  I can’t do this without you, man.  You can’t give up now.  Not after all the shit we’ve been through.”  Projecting all of the love and desperation he could manage, he squeezed Jim’s hand, hoping for some small response, but there was nothing, not even a tiny twitch.  He felt his throat close up and he pushed his face into the side of Jim’s head, ruthlessly stifling tears.  He couldn’t lose it now.  Jim needed his Guide.

            “Mr. Sandburg.” 

            Blair jerked up, turning his head to see the nurse from earlier standing beside him.

            “We’ll be moving him to ICU now.  There’s a waiting room…”

            “I’ll be staying with him,” he said, voice implacable.

            She frowned slightly, clearly prepared to recite the hospital spiel about visiting hours in ICU and sterile environments and blah blah blah…

            “I _need_ to stay with him,” he said.  “Please.”

            “It’s really not…”  She began, but he interrupted her.

            “ _Please_ ,” he said again, projecting determination as strongly as he could.

            “I’ll see what the attending has to say after we get him settled,” she said, “that’s the best I can do.”

            “Thank you,” he said.  There was no way he was going to be kept out of that room.  They could just suck it up because he wasn’t leaving his Sentinel.  Period.

            A large, heavy hand, landed on his shoulder, making him jump.  He’d forgotten entirely that Simon was there.

            “I’m going home, Blair,” Simon said, “call me if anything changes.”

            “Okay Simon.  Thanks for… well everything,” Blair said, trying for a smile and mostly succeeding.

            Simon nodded and walked away.

            It took thirty minutes of discussion with Jim’s attending physician before they would let him park himself in the comfortable chair by Jim’s bed in ICU.  Hours and days blended together without notice as Blair talked softly to Jim, read to him, gave him his sponge baths, helped the nurses turn him and change his sheets.  He became increasingly worried and desperate.  The only good thing seemed to be that their link was once again humming along strongly.  The information he was getting from Jim was chaotic and inconsistent, but it was there and he consciously tried to project his love and strength down the link to his partner.  But even with all of his efforts, Jim remained stubbornly unconscious.  His wound was healing well, fast even, according to the doctor who was pleased with Jim’s physical recovery.  But he seemed as stumped as everyone else as to why Jim wasn’t waking up.  After the second day they’d placed a feeding tube, but despite being ‘fed’ three times a day Blair could tell he was losing weight.   

            After Jim’s first full week in ICU, William Ellison appeared.  Blair was reading to Jim softly from the latest Tom Clancy novel and heard someone gasp softly at Jim’s doorway.  When he looked up, Jim’s father stood there, like a bad dream, hovering uncertainly.  In seconds, all of Blair’s anger, frustration and desperate longing came surging to the surface.  Here was an outlet for all of his fear and desperation.  This man who had failed to protect his son.  This sorry excuse for a father who had swept Jim’s pain under the rug and refused to acknowledge his suffering, failed to get him help when he needed it.

            “You bastard,” he said, his voice hoarse from constant talking over the last few days.

            For a moment, William failed to acknowledge him, his eyes locked on Jim’s still form.

            “Get out.”  Blair got up from his chair and went around Jim’s bed to stand between Jim’s father and his lover.

            “Pardon me?”  Bill asked, finally seeming to notice Blair’s presence.

            “Get… out…”  Blair grated the words, fists clenched at his sides, trying to control the urge to throttle the man where he stood.

            “You’re Jim’s roommate, aren’t you?”  Bill asked, his tone speaking volumes.

            “I’m his partner,” Blair answered, lifting his chin defiantly, giving the word all the inflection it needed to communicate his message.

            Bill frowned.  “I came to see Jimmy.  I saw on the news…  He was shot?”

            “Are you stupid?”  Blair took a step towards the older man, but made himself stop.  It would do Jim no good if he got himself kicked out of the hospital.  “This is all _your_ fault!”

            “How dare you…” Bill’s eyes widened at Blair’s harsh words.

            “ _You_ were the one who failed him.  _You_ were the one who let that bastard abuse him for _years_ and you _knew_ about it and did _nothing_!  And now it’s all come back around!  The reason he’s lying here in this hospital bed is because _Michael Ellison_ decided to fuck with his life… _again_!  If you hadn’t been so damn worried about your _image_ and the _family name_ all those years ago, none of this would have happened!  And now he won’t wake up!  He’s been laying here unconscious since he got out of surgery a _week ago_!  And you just show up like you have any right… like you’ve ever been a father to him?!  No.  No.  Get out!”

            Bill’s face was pale and his hands shook where he gripped his overcoat around himself.  Blair watched him shift nervously in the doorway.

            “I didn’t… I didn’t know…”

            And that was it.  That was the _last_ straw.  Because Blair didn’t have to stand here and listen to this bullshit.  If Jim was a master of repression it was only because he’d apparently learned from the best.

            With a shout of inarticulate rage, he flew at the elder Ellison, and Bill was so shocked that he made no resistance as the smaller man shoved him backwards out of the room, pushing him so hard he stumbled and fell, landing hard in the hallway outside.  Nurses and orderlies began to gather and Blair could hear someone calling for security.

            He stood just outside the door to Jim’s room, feeling like he could tear William Ellison limb from limb in front of all of these people and not care in the least.  And then security was there and they were helping Bill to his feet and Bill was muttering ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry’ under his breath and patting his coat like he was looking for his glasses or his wallet and deliberately _not_ looking at Blair.  And security was asking him if he was okay and if he wanted them to call the police and he was saying ‘no’ and moving off down the corridor towards the elevators.

            “What’s going on here?”  It was Jim’s doctor. 

            As Bill disappeared from sight, Blair’s anger seemed to go with him.  He was left exhausted, swaying on his feet, watching Jim’s doctor approach quickly.

            “They were arguing,” one of the security guards said, “that one,” he pointed at Blair, “pushed the old man down in the hallway.”

            “Blair, what’s going on?  What happened?”

            In the few days they had been here, he’d gotten to know Jim’s doctor and found the man to be both competent and compassionate. 

            “It was Jim’s father,” Blair said, “he… Jim wouldn’t want to see him.  I’m sorry, I might have overreacted slightly.  I promise it won’t happen again.”

            “We can’t have that kind of behavior here, Blair,” the doctor said, “you know that.”

            “I know.  I apologize.  Please just don’t ask me to leave.  Please.”

            The doctor sighed and shook his head.  “Just make sure you behave yourself from now on.”

            “Thank you, doctor,” he said, relieved that his loss of control would be forgiven. 

            The buzzing of his vibrating cell phone had him turning away from the doctor.  Pulling it out, he groaned at the number he recognized.  _Not now.  Please not now_ , he thought, but he moved off down the hall to answer it, praying that Jim couldn’t hear.

            “Dr. Sandburg, how nice to speak with you again.”

            Justin Brasel’s voice sounded as cool as ever, giving nothing away.

            “Justin,” Blair said, trying to slow his pounding heart.

            “It’s time you and I had a little chat, don’t you think?  I’ll meet you at Givaldi’s in an hour.”  The call disconnected before he had a chance to respond. 

            “Fuck,” he whispered, leaning against the wall.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.  There was no way he could meet with Brasel right now, but there was also no way he could _not_ meet the other man and continue the charade he’d so dangerously started months ago.  Especially now with Jim so vulnerable.  He couldn’t afford to tip his hand to the NSA.  There was nothing for it.  He’d have to meet with the man.  They’d obviously gotten suspicious.  He needed to assuage whatever doubts the man had and get himself back on track with them so he could focus on getting Jim back on his feet and in fighting form. 

 

 

 

            Givaldi’s was an upscale Italian place in downtown Cascade.  It had a dress code.  Blair had to run home to the loft and find something suitable to wear before he could make his way over to the restaurant.  It took almost the entire hour and he arrived slightly sweaty and rumpled.  He hadn’t had time to shave and he rubbed his hand self-consciously over his face, feeling the weeks’ worth of beard growth.  Before the tuxedoed host could greet him, he spotted Brasel in a booth at the back and moved towards him, trying to project an air of calm confidence.

            “Brasel,” Blair greeting, shaking the man’s hand.

            “Dr. Sandburg.  Please, sit down.  I heard the food here was just exquisite.  I can’t wait to try the veal.”

            Blair sat, but he wasn’t hungry in the least.  His stomach was churning and his mind racing.  He said nothing but kept his eyes on his menu, ostensibly considering his choices.

            “I’ve been reading your reports,” Justin began, “very interesting.  You’ve done fantastic work with Ellison.”

            “Thank you,” Blair said, eyes meeting those of his superior’s. 

            “He’s come a long way.  We’ve followed his career carefully.  Some of the cases you’ve solved together were very challenging.”

            Blair wasn’t sure where he was going with this.  He resolved to say as little as possible.

            “We are concerned, however, about this latest setback,” Justin said.  “Do you know why he hasn’t regained consciousness?  We were concerned when we didn’t hear from you after this latest… incident.”

            “I have some working theories,” Blair began, trying desperately to figure out how much to reveal.  “It could be as simple as a bad reaction to the anesthesia.  The surgeon said they almost lost him twice.  Or it could be a Sentinel’s way of healing.  Or it could be totally unrelated to Jim’s Sentinel abilities.  Although I doubt that since there doesn’t appear to be anything physically wrong with him, at least not that the doctors have found.”

            “So, in other words, you have no idea,” Brasel’s voice held a note of disappointment. 

            “I’m working on it.  That’s why I haven’t been able to send any reports.  I’m still working things out.”

            “Well, we are eagerly awaiting news.  If you can identify the problem and find a workable solution, it would be very helpful to the program.  Now, how about we enjoy a nice dinner?”

            “I’d love to, Justin, but I’ve really got to get back to Jim.  I need to be there to monitor any changes,” Blair said, keeping his voice carefully professional.

            “Ah well, I’ll just have to enjoy it for both of us then,” he said, giving Blair a wink.  “I look forward to hearing from you soon.  I’ll be around for a few days.”

            Translation, we’re watching you and we don’t quite trust you.  Blair got the message.  He’d have to be careful.  He’d have to give these guys a bone or three before they’d be satisfied and Justin could skedaddle on back to DC. 

            During the next week, he focused on placating his superiors at the NSA with mostly true reports and data, and tried every Guide trick he could think of to wake his slumbering Sentinel.  He heard nothing more from Brasel, but he felt the man’s presence over his shoulder like a black cloud.  Then, exactly a week after his meeting with Justin, Simon called him into the station to tell him about Bill’s suicide.

 

 

 

**PRESENT DAY**

 

            There were nurses and Jim’s doctor and all of them seemed to be crowding into Jim’s room at once.  A couple of them were kneeling beside him, talking to him urgently.  One part of his brain heard and answered their questions, but most of it was focused on his Sentinel, sitting up in his hospital bed.  Awake.  Finally. 

            “Jim,” he croaked, and his lover turned his head towards him.

            “Blair?”  Jim’s voice held a note of fear, sounding nasally and distorted by the feeding tube still inserted in his nose and down his throat.

            “I’m here,” he said, from his position on the floor.  It seemed he was having trouble making his legs work, but two strong orderlies were lifting him, helping his walk to Jim’s bedside and lowering him carefully down into the chair, a nurse produced an oxygen cannula from somewhere and he felt cool air being pumped into his nose.  He reached for Jim’s hand and clutched it tightly, felt him clutch back, felt tears rolling down his cheeks.  Jesus, he’d cried a lot in the last few weeks.

            “I’m here, big guy.  You’re going to be okay,” he said.

            “What happened?”  Jim asked.  “Why do I feel so weak?”

            There were half a dozen people in the room, but Sentinel and Guide ignored all of them.  The link was alive with emotion.  Confusion.  Love.  Joy.  Worry.  Blair would have jumped and shouted his happiness if he’d been able to.

            “You’ve been unconscious for almost two weeks, Detective Ellison,” Jim’s doctor spoke up when it was obvious that Blair wasn’t going to answer Jim’s questions.

            “Unconscious?”  Jim asked.

            “Yes, do you remember being shot?”  The doctor asked.

            “Shot?”  And then it was clear that Jim _did_ remember.  “Oh Jesus,” he said, his face going even paler.  “Michael shot me in the interrogation room at the station.  He was aiming for Blair.  Joel… Joel saved us.”

            Blair nodded, knowing what Jim meant.  Knowing that if he had been killed, Jim would have followed him into death.  A cold shiver ran down his spine at the thought.

            “Now that you’re awake, we’ll want to keep you here for a couple of days just to be sure everything is normal, but the actual bullet wound is healing nicely.  You suffered no major damage.  I’ll be suggesting at least another week of leave before clearing you for light duty, and you’ll need physical therapy for your shoulder and to regain some of the muscle mass you lost while you were unconscious.”

            The doctor’s words flowed around them.  The room was less crowded now that it seemed the immediate emergency had passed. 

            “How are you feeling, Mr. Sandburg?”  The doctor asked, turning his hawk-eyed gaze on the younger man.

            “I’ll be okay.  I’ll be just fine now,” he said.  Everything else could wait.  Jim was fine.  Jim was awake.  Jim was back with him and they could deal with all the rest later. 

            “Alright.  I’m going to order that the feeding tube be removed as soon as possible.  You’ll be on a diet of bland foods for the next couple of days.  Small, frequent meals to let your system adjust to solids again.  If you’re eating normally, keeping food down and going to the bathroom then you can be discharged on Sunday.”  The doctor watched the two men carefully, noting how neither of them seemed particularly concerned with what he was saying.  Smiling to himself, he turned and left them alone.

            “I was so scared,” Blair said.  He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jim’s. 

            “Come here,” Jim said, tugging on his hand, “I want to hold you.”

            Blair fell into Jim’s arms, wrapping his arms around his Sentinel and hanging on tight.  He felt Jim’s arms go around him and heard Jim inhaling his scent, nuzzling his hair, taking small licks on the side of his neck, reconnecting with his senses.  They stayed like that until a nurse appeared to remove Jim’s feeding tube.  Then they spent hours talking about nothing.  Tomorrow, Blair decided, would be soon enough to deal with everything that had happened while Jim was asleep.  The looming problems of Bill’s death and the NSA stood like mountains in the way of their future, but as Blair sat, holding Jim’s hand and feeling the spiritual link that connected them he felt the worst was behind them. 


End file.
